


Public Relations

by ftld



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: snkkink, Crack, Drunkenness, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4520028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftld/pseuds/ftld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever Eren gets drunk he starts ranting about his divine powers and threatening to smite all who displease him. Turns out, he's telling the truth. Armin's not sure he likes all the blatant honesty, but he knows he'll find a use for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Relations

**Author's Note:**

> De-anon from the snkkink meme.
> 
> Orginal prompt & fill [here](http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/13546.html?thread=8401642).
> 
> This is just buckets and buckets and buckets of silly. I had so much fun with it. Many thanks to anon for coming up with such a spectacular prompt.

Public Relations

 

“How dare you!” Eren roared.“I’m gonna smite you where you stand!You wanna get smote, motherfucker?”

Armin resisted the urge to introduce his palm to his forehead.This happened every time.Every single time Eren got a couple drinks in him, he became incapable of keeping his mouth shut.Fortunately, there was little harm to be done, and Armin was adaptable.It hadn’t been five minutes into Eren’s first drunken rant about his godly powers and fondness for divine wrath before the beginnings of a plan came together.There was something to be said for the beauty of hiding in plain sight.It was a tactic Armin was rather fond of.Not that there was much need for hiding.No sane person would believe the nonsense spewing out of Eren’s mouth, sober or not.

Everyone, even deities, needed to blow off some steam every once in a while.  

“Eren,” Mikasa said.  “Calm down.”

“ _Never_.”

Jean rolled his eyes.  They were all used to this by now.  Jean had become especially accustomed to being the focal point of Eren’s drunken rage.  “Look-“

“Shut your filthy, blasphemous mouth!”  Eren’s whole body swayed to the left as he flung a pointed finger at Jean’s face.  “Apologize to the High-Priestess!  Tell her you’re _sorry_!  No one insults Mi kasa’s hair and gets away with it!”

Armin was starting to find the whole exchange to be immensely entertaining.  He was having a terrible time keeping his chuckles silent.

“I will rain thunder and lighting and all _sorts_ of shit down on you!”

Really, it was about time to step in.  Armin took a breath, held it, and stepped forward before letting it out.  “Okay, Eren.  I think that’s enough.”

Eren whirled on the spot.  “Didn’t you hear what he said?!”

“Yes.”  Armin deserved a medal for this performance.  “He said Mikasa should grow her hair out.”

Eren snarled.  “REPENT, PEON!”

“I’d rather not.”  Jean rolled his eyes.

“Destroy him, Priest Arlert!”

“Maybe we should walk it off instead.”  Armin’s suggestion was met with a disbelieving stare, which slowly morphed into one of understanding.

“I trust in your guidance,” Eren said solemnly.  “You always steer me right.”

Jean muttered.  “One of these days you’re going to have to teach us how you do that.”

Armin smiled.  “Nah, I prefer keeping my tricks to myself.”

 

* * *

 

Armin wasn’t sure how Eren managed to do it, but he had a way of throwing even the best laid plans catapulting off course.  Armin had the whole thing figured out: he’d established the route weeks ago, hidden supplies where they were sure to remain untouched, and taken great care to prepare the ideal words to convince Eren, even when he was at his most stubborn.

In truth, Armin was feeling a bit smug with his foresight.  Eren, half-dragged alongside spinning a canteen by the strap around his fingers in between stumbles and missteps, shouldn't get the chance to spill any secrets tonight.  Armin should have known better.

The moment he heard the MPs on guard muttering about the wall-cultists, and how they had the right idea, Armin started searching for any route that would get Eren as far away from them as possible.

“Did they just say what I think they did?” Eren snapped, his stupor dissipating in an instant.

Armin sighed.  “Let’s just leave them alone.”

Eren snorted, and smashed Armin’s grand plan to keep him from drunkenly threatening everyone in a five yard radius to pieces.  Armin hurried to keep up with Eren’s long, angry strides toward the pair of MPs.  Maybe next time he’d just lock Eren in the dungeon to sleep it off.  It wouldn’t be difficult, the Captain could probably be convinced; if not, Armin figured out where the keys were _ages_ ago.

“Seriously, Eren.  Let’s just go.”

Eren glanced back, wavering for a moment.

“We should just seal up the gates and be done with it,” the second man said.

Eren took one last swig from the canteen and hurled it to the ground, barely managing to keep his footing in the process.  He spun on his heel, arms stretched wide for balance, and began storming his way down the street Armin had been trying to get him from.

“Hey, you!  Yeah, that’s right, you twitchy little coward!”  Eren waved a pointed finger in their general direction as he closed in on them.

The MPs exchanged a glance before shooting glares at the two of them.  “You want something?”

“Yes!  You idiots actually think these things will save you?!  Well, let me tell you, these walls,” Eren paused to lick his lips and choose his next words carefully.  “Are bullshit.”

The man on the right flushed, clenched his fists, and bellowed so loud Armin could swear he heard a window rattle.  “What did you say?!”

This was bad.  He had to get Eren away from there, quick.  “Come on, let’s go.  The weather’s taking a turn.  We have to get back to the barracks.”

Eren responded by licking his palm and rubbing his hand on Wall Rose, a smug and vindictive smile on his face.

“How dare you desecrate the walls!”

“ _FUCK the walls!”_

Later, Armin would swear up and down that the undignified squeak drowned out by the sudden fizzle of lightning came from the second guard; the one that _wasn’t_ reduced to a smoking pile of ash in the blink of an eye.

Eren tilted his head.  “Huh.  Well, that’s one way to lose an argument.”

“Oh, no.”  How were they ever going to explain this one?  They couldn’t.  There was no way they could talk their way around the smoldering remains of an MP.  They’d be court-martialed for sure.  That was simply unacceptable.  There was only one way out.  Armin chuckled.  “Didn’t know the Military Police were such wimps they wet themselves over a little lightning.”

The remaining guard lurched forward and raised a fist.  “Why you little-“  _CRASH._

Armin felt bad about it, he honestly did—but leaving witnesses was just so _sloppy._

 

* * *

 

“Never again.”  Eren moaned.  “Why… _why_ didn’t you stop me?”

Armin smiled and answered as quiet and even as possible.  “Sorry.  Didn’t think you’d go all out.  By the time I realized you were already a bit… out of hand.”

Eren let out a pained groan and threw his arm over his eyes.  “Did I seriously combust two jerkass, wall-cultist dickheads from the Military Police?”

“Well…”

“Damn.”

“It’s okay.  I covered for you.”

 

* * *

 

Armin could almost hear the thoughts whirring in his head.  He stood a few careful steps back from the Garrison tactical squad, eyes fixed on Trost, trying to come up with something that would get everyone out of this mess alive.  It was more of a challenge than it should have been—as it turned out there were some in the Garrison who fancied themselves brave, though Armin wasn’t convinced they understood what that meant.  They were all so foolish; searching for any and every way they can toss their lives aside for the good of humanity instead of trying to think of ways to win the battles without sacrificing all the manpower they needed for the war.

Armin already had his hands full with Eren.  Now he had to keep the entirety of the Garrison in line as well.  Eren first, he decided, then the Garrison.

The Garrison forces began drawing out their plan of attack.  Armin took note of each obstacle, watched as the squad leaders discussed dozens of options that were sure to get at least half of their soldiers killed.  He’d have to do something about that, but there were more important things to think about at the moment.

The problem was that Eren, for all his passion and determination, was not good at first impressions.  Half the military had already labelled him a monster.  The citizens of Trost would not be far behind.  From there it would spread to everyone within the walls.  They couldn’t keep this a secret; it was foolish to try.  What he needed was to sway the public, to appeal to the broader masses.  He needed to get them on Eren’s side, but at a wary and respectful distance; just close enough to be outraged if the military tried anything.

Armin closed his eyes and tried to sort through the various options at his disposal.  He could simply point out that there was no need to engage the titans—so long as they were kept away from Eren, then Eren could do his job and come out the hero—but it wouldn’t be enough.  Eren’s fate would still be determined by the military; one heroic deed might not be enough to overwhelm the inevitable panic they’d face when Eren’s ability went public.

There had to be a better way.  Sure, Eren might be able to haul the giant boulder to the gate, but maybe wasn’t good enough and they still didn’t know how much control Eren was capable of.  If they were willing to accept such a risky plan, there were certainly more effective and foolproof ways to seal the gate and kill a few titans.  Eren possessed a multitude of talents.

Armin’s mind caught on a brief flash of Pixis’ flask.  He shouldn’t.  He _really_ shouldn’t, but… Well, if they were going to rely on secret weapons to win this battle, they may as well go all out.

“I don’t think we need to engage the titans.  If we gather near all of our forces as far away from Eren as possible, we can lure them away.  Then, all Eren would need is a small band to protect him from the stragglers.”  He could easily manipulate the assignments to get Mikasa on Eren’s team, if she didn’t do it on her own.  Not that Eren would need much protection, but better safe than sorry.  Besides, they had to keep up appearances.

His job done to point out the obvious solution and sow a few seeds to help out his own plot, Armin settled into distantly listening to the conversation around him.  He’d speak up again if necessary, but they’d probably get it on their own.

It would be easy from here.  The spectacle of the mission coupled with a few well-placed whispers of divine intervention, and the rest would fall into place on its own.  Rumors had already begun to take root after the disappearance of two particularly irritating MPs, nothing left behind but ashes.  Armin would barely have to lift a finger.  Pleased, he contributed a couple more ideas to his commanders, silently calculating how much alcohol would be required and the optimal consumption rate to ensure success.

 

* * *

 

Armin was starting to have second thoughts.  He should have known it wouldn’t be as simple as it seemed.  With Eren involved, it never was.  It had been too easy to manipulate the assignments—Mikasa standing on Eren’s shoulder looking entirely too smug for _any_ situation was proof enough of that.  The ease of acquiring the proper amount of alcohol was  displayed by Eren, barely managing to right himself after stumbling into a housing block.  The evidence this whole plan had been massive overkill?  Well, there were an _awful_ lot of buildings on fire.

“You’re telling me that’s _Eren?!_ ”  Jean voice was nothing more than an undignified squawk.

“It’s obviously Eren!”  Connie was taking it much better.  “You show those assholes who’s boss!”

“Since when can titans _levitate?!_ ”

“Holy shit, is that lightning coming out of his hands?”

Armin shuddered.  _Witnesses_.  That was going to take some getting used to.

“Wahoo!” Sasha cheered.  “You fried that one _good!_ ”

Jean let out a strangled moan.  “There is no God.  No Goddesses.  There _can’t_ be.  Not if fucking _Eren Yeager_ can do all this.  How is he able to do this?”

“Some say he’s the sacred embodiment of heaven’s divine will.”  Armin managed to get the words out without losing his composure, barely.  He needed to practice a bit more before letting that line loose on the unsuspecting masses.

“Agh!” Jean nearly knocked Connie down with the force of his palms swiping down the back of his shirt.

Connie glared.  “You have to stop doing that, man.”

“What else am I supposed to do? My faith just died screaming!”

“Um, guys?” Bertolt asked, worried eyes trained on the sky above.  “Is that a tornado forming?”

Armin had accepted that maybe this wasn’t his greatest idea, but then again this was a valuable piece of information.  Armin filed it away for future use.  Yes, knowing the extent of Eren’s powers while transformed could be _very_ useful.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, I feel like shit.”  Eren rasped.

“Well, you were in titan form for quite a long time.  It seems to wear you out.”  Not to mention the electrical storm, the fireballs, the hail, the _meteor_ …

“I don’t even remember transforming.”  Eren scrunched his eyes closed, as if trying to force the memory to surface.  He sighed.  “I don’t remember anything.  What happened?”

Armin had considered this might be the case.  Is wasn’t that he wanted to hide the fact that Eren was now recognized for the deity he was, it was just that Mikasa hadn’t quite finished the newsletter and it would be prudent to ensure nobody was going to try to lock them all up somewhere first.  Those wall-cultists were out for Eren’s blood.

Armin would have to navigate this explanation carefully.  “The mission was a success with minimal casualties.  The collateral damage, though…”

“What collateral damage?”

“A large portion of Trost was destroyed.”

Eren’s jaw dropped.

“Rumor is the Goddesses dispatched a scion of their will to pass judgement on humanity—the Rogue Titan.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Nope.”  Armin shrugged.  It wouldn’t do to let on how pleased he was with this outcome.  He’d tell Eren the whole story, but not until they were in the clear.  They needed Eren calm and composed; humble with a dash of his natural charisma.  Then, they’d set him loose.  Wall Sina wouldn’t even know what hit them.

“Maybe that will explain away the titan thing?  I gotta tell you, I was worried I was going to wake up in a dungeon or something.”

Armin scanned the—admittedly—nice room they’d been set up in for Eren to recover.  He smiled.  “I don’t think you have to worry about explaining the titan thing.  You underestimate the confidence and loyalty your friends have for you.  Sasha and Connie were particularly enthralled by the sight.”

“Of course they were.”  Eren chuckled.  “Everyone else?”

“They took it in stride.”  Armin frowned.  “I think you scared Bertolt a bit, though.  I wonder what that was about…”

“What?”

Armin brushed his curiosity aside.  It was something to think about later.  “Nothing.”

“Well, at least they just think I’m a titan.  Man, it would have been _bad_ if they found out the truth.”


End file.
